Confession: I’m not much of a cook. I have a few recipes that I cook quite well, and I guess you could say that when instructed (and when I have the energy to pull it off and when it’s simple enough) I can cook something, however, it’s not my strong suit.We didn’t grow up on gourmet food, and didn’t know it either. I’m quite satisfied with a casserole that includes rice, cream of mushroom soup, and maybe a can of tuna. It’s strange now, how I’m seeing that cooking is no great joy to me, and it’s a huge chore. Honestly, I’d rather be cleaning than cooking something.Now, this is not to be confused with BAKING. I love to bake –cookies, banana bread, etc. Perhaps it’s because I prefer the end result (mad sweet tooth), but I haven’t really figured out why I can’t seem to embrace the love of the cooking art. Maybe young kids are a contributor to the chaos that makes being in one place for an extended period of time hard to manage… But alas, I know too many excellent mothers who make excellent meals. Regardless, I have a few signature dishes that get me by. Pictured above is my famous lasagna –YUM! I can do biscuits and gravy, spaghetti, home-made mac-n-cheese (although Lance doesn’t agree with me that it’s a main course, and he prefers a mac-n-cheese with a tomato base: hense: my “Italian casserole”), and the new chicken pockets. I might be able to fit each of my recipes on 1 to 2 pages of “The Joy of Cooking”, which looking at the limitless possibilities (and not relating AT ALL to Remy from Ratatouille), doesn’t much constitute even a drop in the bucket.My apologies go out to my dear little family, who will have the same meals served time and time again throughout their lives. Eh, at least I make up with it by being an excellent social schmoozer, snaggling us a dinner appointment here and there with other chefs much more talented than myself.